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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23351653">Take what the water gave me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/germain/pseuds/germain'>germain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Death But Not Really, M/M, One Shot, and then decide if you have the emotional capacity for that, basically just google the myth of antinoos, chris nolan has nothing on me in terms of story complexity, even if my ending is quite altered, not permanent but it should be absolutely stressed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:54:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23351653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/germain/pseuds/germain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It has cost me a life, once."</p><p>A sacrifice, made at the right place and the right time to a local God would allow one to waive their life for the life of their beloved one.</p><p>Merlin attempts to overturn the cruel prophecy of Arthur's untimely death.</p><p>(And then spends a lifetime atoning for it.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Take what the water gave me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i swear i always wish i would write one of those fun, happy one shots that bring you a moment of hapiness in this tough, harsh world, but instead i always end up with this</p><p>disclaimer: i own nothing, and the title is from what the water gave me, by florence and the machine<br/>the song, along with the myth of antinous, inspired this story</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The prophecy is merciless.</p><p>Merlin cries the first time he hears it.</p><p>It's a good thing he's been separated from the party, led by Arthur on a mission into the wild lands of the White forest, because he would not have been able to hide just how deeply he has been struck. Wholly, utterly devastated.</p><p>Once he stumbles outside the narrow cave he had met the witch in, the bright daylight attacks his eyes with a sharp, stabbing pain. His palms feel cold and wet, his hands are shaking, heart racing like a galloping horse. Merlin's knees begin to buckle and he gives in, collapsing into the moss and leaves that line the forest floor.<br/>
It could have been stone or a cold puddle for all he cared, he felt nothing. Not even pain, surprise, anger. He feels nothing, like a greedy black holed had opened up in his chest and sucked in all that Merlin was.</p><p>Tears come and sobs too, shaking, his bodyonce again feels frail in a way it hadn't in years.</p><p>Hours pass, or minutes, his mind is blank, but then it clears and he comes to, and looks at his surroundings as if he had just woken up to a place that he had been transported to while asleep.</p><p>He remembers something he heard, from someone, a while ago, in passing, a lifetime ago when everything he's ever known, felt, and thought hadn't been pointing like an arrow to an inevitable, cruelt outcome, and thinks himself lucky that he'll never cross this place again, for he would have never been able to separate it from this moment.</p><p>Or maybe it's worse, it being an utterly ordinary place.</p><p>I thought you a friend, a nurturer, he laments nature. She does not answer.</p><p>Numb, he stands up and dusts himself off, and heads back the way he came.</p><p>He's lucky he has hours of walking ahead of him, so that all the shock can wear off and the tears won't sneak up on him anymore.</p><p>By a stroke of luck, he also only encounters soldiers, for Arthur has ridden off to meet a noble, and only comes back the next morning, having slept at a tavern. It gives Merlin a chance to reign in his feeling, to be less noticeably shaken. Or so he tries.</p><p>Months pass, and he sleeps badly, sometimes.</p><p>Cruel visions haunt his nightmares, showing him, again and again, with an impressive, brutal creativity, all the ways the prophecy of Arthur's untimely death could be fulfilled. A haunt gone wrong. A horse stumbling while crossing a river, carrying his master in full armour on his back. A foe sneaking their way into the castle kitchen, among the staff, and pouring poison into the king's meal. A hidden illness, taking the young royal's life either quickly, without a warning, or slowly, so that he would fade over the course of months, while losing colour and life, but still present enough to feel immense pain at all hours of the day.</p><p>Dark thoughts sneak up on him unexpectedly during daytime, too. Once, Merlin would be going through his books and look up to see Arthur practice fighting with his men in the sun, hair a warm gold halo and his thoroughly polished chest piece reflecting the bright light, only to have the image soured by a reminded of 'you'll lose him' and 'soon'. How soon though?</p><p>That was, once Merlin processed the initial shock, the worst part. The not knowing.</p><p>How much time did he have left? Ten years? Five? A year? Was it only months, or mere weeks, even? Could he wake up tomorrow to find Arthur cold and unresponsive to a call, a touch?</p><p>Two options crystallised in Merlin's mind once the waves of emotion and wild thoughts have washed off.</p><p>One, you can prepare yourself. Or even him. Do it first, before destiny has her chance. Say your goodbye, take care of what you need to, and then make sure his end is painless and merciful. This idea is swept away quickly, but it still takes Merlin by surprise how cold and analytical he can be in this situation.</p><p>Two, prevent it. Do not let the young, good, rightful king go before his time. He brings peace and glory to a land that has not seen it in so long. He is bright, he is kind, he is just. He deserves to see the skin on the back of his hands wear paper-like thin, and spotted, to feel his back ache in a way it hadn't used to when he stand up after a meeting at the table in the great hall, deserves to see the fruit of his labour, to see his kingdom and its people flourish.</p><p>And you love him, Merlin thinks bitterly. You know, deep down, it is not the good of the country you are so desperate to protect. Deeply and selfishly, you want him to live, because you cannot imagine a world that he is not a part of. As if the sun had gone out. You could go on, but you would never be able to shake off the cold and the darkness that would be left behind.</p><p>So Merlin makes a decision. He knows he must work quickly, just in case, though also to be inconspicuous so that he is not found out.</p><p>It is difficult when Arthur turns to him, to look into his cheerful, young face, and to know that there is a sword hanging over his head.<br/>
Rationally, Arthur must know that one day, he'll die, like all mortals do. Only most people's death isn't tragic enough to be foretold by magical beings across land and time. How can be something that feels very much like Merlin's personal tragedy be of such an importance that fate would trouble herself with it? Is the guarantee of human mortality not enough? Who benefits from the desperation it brings out in Merlin?</p><p>He makes the most of what he has, aids his king whenever possible, both in work and in personal troubles, uses all opportunities to spend time with him, privately. Merlin tries to commit every quirk and thought of Arthur's to his memory, as if he were trying to keep him in the world at least in some way, once he's gone from it, however, it must be admitted he also wants Arthur to feel like there is not much he hadn't been afforded, when it comes to Merlin.</p><p>This makes the conviction that any sacrifice is worth overturning the cruel fate harder, once he realises what state he is about to bring his dearest friend into.</p><p>Then, one autumn day, while on a mission in the south plains, Arthur develops a mild tiredness that grows into a fever over the course of the several next days, accompanied by an intolerance for food, general weakness, and tremor. Merlin knows the time has come.</p><p>He says his goodbyes, slowly and carefully. Arthur is still weak, but his mind is sharp as ever and so Merlin must be careful not to raise suspicion.</p><p>He leaves behind all that is not necessary, sneaks out of the camp while a meeting with local nobility is being held, and persuades the boatman to sail him a few miles down the river.</p><p>Then he pays the man, and walks the rest of the trek by foot, along the shore.</p><p>They turn to him when they hear the grass rustle under his feet.</p><p>He has read about them, researched them, and planned for this precisely and carefully, just in case he ever needed it.</p><p>They wear white linen gowns and flowers in their hair, and make him strip before the ritual can behind.</p><p>He was once worried, whether everything would go according to plan, and when it miraculously did, whether he'll be too terrified, but once it happens, his mind is blank and his heart is at peace.</p><p>The water is a bit cold on his skin once it envelops his body, as they submerge him into the stream, lying on his back, pliant under their hands.</p><p>Merlin sees the autumn blue, morning sky above his head, and then their friendly faces, as they bend to him, hands pressing into his skin, body sinking into the stream.</p><p>Then, the water climbs up his face and he shuts his eyes and his last thought is that of a golden haired young man, sitting carelessly on a lawn in the sun, talking with his friends, squinting and smiling once he catches his observes.</p><p>And the water surface closes, as if it had never opened at all.</p><p>-</p><p>Distant commotion accompanies the man who carries the limp, pale body into the camp.</p><p>An explanation of the young man's cunning plan is given hastily, falling on deaf ears of the king.</p><p>He barks orders, though the anger gives way to a disbelief, and then, devastation, once he touches the cold corpse that had felt warm and soft only hours ago under Arthur's tender touch.</p><p>Men shout but he ignores them, and cradles the body to his chest. The dark hair seems even darker, soaked with water and in such a stark contrast against the nearly white skin.</p><p>Merlin's lips are blue and his eyes are closed.</p><p>It is suddenly too bright outside, even if it is well into autumn, and Arthur's head is spinning. The front of his white attire is soaked, but he pays it no mind. His men, lost for thought, compassionate, leave him be, before they gently coax him from the body so that they can carry it into the doctor's tent.</p><p>Arthur sits by its side, devotedly, as if he were keeping guard in case the bright blue eyes were to open and any moment, and to gaze at him with familiarity, once again.</p><p>But they don't.</p><p>-</p><p>"My lord." Gaius says after leaving Arthur with enough polite silence, once he's entered the tent.</p><p>His tone is pragmatic but gentle, and deep down, Arthur admires him for taking on this role. God knows no men know how to console their king.</p><p>Arthur turns to Gaius, without really glancing at him, to signify that the wise man has his attention.</p><p>"You do know why he did this." Gaius says carefully.</p><p>Arthur breathes in, and doesn't stop cradling Merlin's hand. It is growing stiff in his grip, however, there is nothing that could terrify him about Merlin, not even death and her macabre tricks.</p><p>He nods. "Yes, I do." Arthur says.</p><p>"A sacrifice, made on the right time of year to a local God would allow one to transfer their life for another's." Gaius stated. "I am not going to debate the likeness of its workings."</p><p>Arthur turned to look at him sharply, eyes swollen and still wet with unshed tears, gaze wild and hair mussed.</p><p>"He knew." Arthur said, voice harsh from hours of unuse. "He knew that I was destined to die and he wanted to stop it. His life for mine. He saw me growing weak. But I wasn't. Ill. I wasn't dying. I've known for so long of that prophecy. My entire life, it followed me right along with my shadow wherever I went. He must have found out. I tried so hard to protect him, to shelter him from it. He didn't have the time to come to terms with it."</p><p>Arthur bent his head and laid it at Merlin's side, and so his voice became muffled.</p><p>"He started acting differently as if he knew we were to be separated soon. That's when I knew. I wasn't ill, you know it. I was terrified, and so my body responded to it with unease and sickness. He must have thought I was dying, and chose to give his life for mine."</p><p>Gaius gazed at his hands and flexed them as he held them connected in front of his abdomen, just to have something to do, so that the words could sneak out through the sudden tightness of his throat.</p><p>"Merlin made his choice, my lord. I will not cheapen it by saying that all your men would do the same, because their motivations are different. Merlin died and you will live. As you have known."</p><p>Arthur nodded. "I know. I figured it out, over the years. My greatest tragedy, my devastation. It wasn't supposed to be my death. No, my untimely end, my youth being snatched from me before due time was to be due to the grief of losing him."</p><p>He fell silent for a moment, but then he spoke up, raising his head to turn and look at his old teacher, as he felt Gaius deserved.</p><p>"I know that I should say that this is my fault, and that I would have died for him, given the choice. And that I failed to protect him. But I have live this so many times in my thoughts and my nightmares that when it has truly come, it feels like a memory. It feels unimaginable. Like the moon will never appear in the sky again. I could only ever imagine the rest of my life with him, at my side."</p><p>"My lord-" Gaius hastily spoke.</p><p>"Yes, I know," Arthur interrupted him. "My people need me. I mustn't follow him. I won't. I have a duty to keep him in my memory. There are parts no one else has seen. They can't be gone from the world."</p><p>"You will see him again." Gaius said, resolutely. "You will find each other again."</p><p>"I'm aware of that." Arthur smiles, his face worn and bloated in the candle light. So far no man had been brave enough to interrupt him, until Gaius had brought in the small source of light.</p><p>The year ends, and Arthur manages to make himself get up in the mornings, dress himself, feed himself, and perform his duties. He smiles and he jokes and he treats people with kindness, but he never feels real warmth again. His life feel like a performance, now, like a dressed up store front of an empty building.</p><p>Gaius gives him knowing looks, from time to time, while his friends allow him to mourn.</p><p>Arthur proves himself something his father had never been - a good king. The country prospers. Arthur engages his court and handpicks his best advisors, wise men and women he can rely on, so that eight years down the line, when an arrow pierces his lung during a mission turned a tussle, the kingdom has heirs it can fall back onto.</p><p>Arthur dies quietly and peacefully, despite the fuss that surrounds it.</p><p>When they dress his body in his regal armour and cape, and sail it to the other side of the lake, a familiar face is there to greet him.</p><p>A warlock, the most powerful man and the subject of many legends that pass from ear to ear across the kingdom, is reaching his hand down to pull the young Pendragon his feet.</p><p>Arthur's clothes are soaked and his red tunic is sticking to his chest, hair still dripping with the lake water. He had only been under for seconds, but a lifetime had passed under his eyelids.</p><p>"I have seen what you have shown me, and I have learnt from it." Arthur says, confident and ready to take on the world.</p><p>"It has cost me a life, once." The warlock replies, but the sparks in his eyes betray his exalted facade.</p><p>"I know. And I will treasure it." Arthur promises.</p><p>"My life, or the lesson?"</p><p>"Both." The future kind swears fiercely.</p><p>"Good." Merlin replies, turns on his foot, and looks to check that Arthur follows him back down the footpath towards the side entrance of the castle.</p><p>-</p><p>Arthur notices that Merlin is steering them away from a specific location.</p><p>It takes him a while to figure out what's so strange about his behaviour, and asking really has no purpose since Merlin would just insist that he's being perfectly normal, and then carry on being weird.</p><p>The name has change during the centuries, and so has every stone and every tree that had ever stood there, even the river's creek might have moved over the time.</p><p>Merlin's desperation to take a different road and head down a different path suddenly makes a lot of sense.</p><p>"Oh, dear." Arthur says once he understands, and extends a hand across the interior of the car.</p><p>Merlin blinks, not as inconspicuously as he probably would have liked, and when that doesn't work, rubs the material of his cotton shirt that sits on the inside of his right wrist under his eyes to wipe the wetness away.</p><p>Once, both Merlin's, and by extension, Arthur's lives had ended here, only a couple of miles away.</p><p>Arthur sees no purpose in confronting the place now.</p><p>It is just open land, meadows and sparse forests, as it was before. The old religion is long gone, forgotten, along with its newest, blue eyed young god, who just happens to be driving a Hyundai at a responsible speed down a country road.</p><p>Arthur raises his hand to carefully, tenderly wipe away a stray tear, and Merlin breaks his usually uncompromising attitude to keeping eyes on the road.</p><p>They have understood everything about each other a long ago, both in and without words, and so the shared look is more of a reassurance than a search for a connection.</p><p>It is still there.</p><p>Sometimes, when he's lying in a bath and he lets his body freely float in the mass of water, Merlin is reminded of what he once did, a life time ago, or better yet, in another lifetime. He was satisfied with what he'd been like as a mortal, and it had served as a lesson both to Arthur and to him.</p><p>Some days, it was difficult to forgive himself for what he'd put Arthur through, to reason with himself that it was necessary for the bigger good. And even though he knew he had Arthur's forgiveness, it was still a deep, healed, long scarred wound he only dared poke at when he was certain that it couldn't flare up anymore.</p><p>That too, would be fully healed, in time.</p>
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